Gift-giving

I was in town early this morning.  The shops were just opening, and I had met a friend for a brief but momentous few minutes.  She was on the island to deliver something I need but can't find on the island; she was here to find something she can't find where she lives now.  The details of the gift-giving I'll reserve and share instead the process of gift-giving that adds to life in the process of being 'freed-up.'  The island is at its autumn premium today cool and clear skies and a moon still full bright in the window at 6 AM.  Harvests of beautiful food ... yellow pears with cheeks of pinkish rouge, green apples that melt into a froth when topped over a bed of chopped red cabbage, green beans still snappy and delicious when steamed and the promise of acorn squash baked with butter and a sprinkle of parmesan cheese.  Earth's gifts to the gardener and farmer who has invested time, handwork and the generous conversations that only a cultivator with heart knows how to give.

We have a home where planting, poultry-raising, laughter and the slow yet steady process of healing happens.  The small gardens here in the woods have gifted me with the affirmation:  you can do this!  In the days and nights that pass, the moon, Hina, teaches me that there are different ways to count time and through those lessons my thinking and my beliefs change.  A birthday approaches, and my personal inventory and harvest of one more Earth year lived account for the good and better feelings lighting up my life.  Trials called upon my internal resources and drew from me the strength needed to care well for myself and those I love.  Those are gifts that sometimes don't arrive unless there are no other options.  From awful, something better comes and it amazes.  Celebrate the amazing, large and small!

I prepare to give myself a gift that will require a six month to one year commitment.  It is a gift of believing I can re-train my brain, and it is a gift that I believe will lead to feeling better and better.  For these months, my blogs may be inactive.  I'm not sure what I will want to write during the next months, we'll see.  The healing journey is alive and blessed with the belief that better is good, better is possible.  I've bought my birthday present a little early but it feels like it's coming right on time.

Happy harvest-time and blessings for a time of gifts that make a difference in all the best possible ways.

Masked

A mask is an article normally worn on the face, typically for protection, disguise, performance or entertainment. Masks have been used since antiquity for both ceremonial and practical purposes. They are usually worn on the face, although they may also be positioned for effect elsewhere on the wearer's body, so in parts of Australia giant totem masks cover the body, whilst Inuit women use finger masks during storytelling and dancing.^[1]-

-From Wikipedia

Summer in our town is either slow, or tentative.  Seated on a wooden bench under an umbrella, the sun and the breeze were great company.  The thermos of de-caf coffee had warmed my belly and my complimentary breakfast of herb-spinkled eggs sat in there as well.  Slowly, I am able to be in conversation with new folks.  My I Can Breathe Mask dangles off my ear like an appendage I slip quickly in to place if a scent triggers the put-in-place motion.  Today Pete and I had finished breakfast and a newly-made friend was quickly approaching.  She came to the bench across the table and sat.  We bantered with the don't remember your name thing for a few seconds, giggled at the social gamesmanship of it, and then had a good and neighborly chat about summer, sun, 'home', and then eventually the mask.

It's important, I think, to get a feel for how conversations from behind masks or conversations that start with the mask dangling to the mask in-place invite.  Rewound a few years, thick fear and defensiveness made masked conversations not only difficult but triggering experiences.  With illness bred from being safe only when avoiding, staying put to converse for any reason let alone about the illness or with a trigger (scented source) is risky business.  More often then not, I left the scene before conversation could sprout:  flee, not fight; flight then write.  Even when this masked one was able to converse, the brain chemistry and the memory needed to be calmed and refreshed before a place of ease returned.  This post is not about the science of masked conversation, though I weave in and out of the effects on a being's chemistry.  What is helpful to me, and perhaps to those who read, is the slow flowing comfort with social intercourse from behind a mask.

Picture this:  the mask I currently wear is 'decorative', black and green lace over a tan mask with carbon filter.  With my practice of living with PLAN BE, I have come to know the illness and the conditions for being in the public eye with a mask.  It has been seven years.

• Some of my hesitancy has passed:  I know I must wear it to remain comfortable.  I know what happens when I am without the mask, and know it's not necessary to tell the story of it all.  Trust must grow before a story is exchanged. 
•  The choice to buy and wear that lace mask was the Venus-in-me the love of pretty things that said, "Here's something pretty you can wear."  And, the thing that has happened for me behind that lacey mask is ... people approach the mask and say weird and wonderful new-to-me things:

'that's the coolest protective mask I've ever seen!'

'cool mask!'

'very decorative.'

I say, "Thanks, I think so too."

"I've heard about [chemical sensitities] but never knew ..."

With my mask dangling, I say, "Yes, what you say is sometimes true.  But it is unique for each of us ..."

I am more known to people at this Sunday morning setting.  There is some understanding and comfort with my ways of being, and I more comfortable with the limits I set.  People tell me about their experience with inciting episodes; an event triggers a change in a loved one and ripples out; because I clean the restroom I hear of others who might be like me, but not cleaning a public restroom.  Masks have been a source of protection, decoration, entertainment and ritual shape-shifting and in the everyday life of someone who heals from the affects of others' choices all those reasons for the mask play a part. 

Seasons of change are true for us all, tentative or late I suppose it only matters if you are counting on the change to plant your nature.  Otherwise, grow anyway.

Managing Set-backs

This blog began with a very real shift:  Plan BE made it possible for me to believe it was time to begin feeling better.  Earth Day was my point of reckoning ... from here I launched new beginnings.  I told myself new stories and re-entered my community believing I could be part of it.  I filled this new blog with examples of the new stories and success to Plan BE.  I have felt better and better for three months.

Last week-end I tried to do more than I could manage without tipping the new beliefs into territory filled with old triggers of over-load.  Freeing up myself from years of old experiences is still a process, successes build new foundations in increments, but there are no teams of elves laying in the corner-stones and fill overnight.  Walking into a department store, and staying in there (with my mask) for thirty minutes is a legion feat; riding through banks of Scotch Broom lined highways where newly sprayed Round-up edges are evidenced with the inimitable dead-brown tint; and then visiting friends in their new and wonderful for them kitchen set off the set-back.  Topping it all off, my long-additive choice to comfort myself with wheat (bread/toast/cookies) finally laid me back.

Recovery and healing from the effects of multiple chemical sensitivities is a multiple and unique journey.  My experience with the process re-introduces the methods of coping emotionally and physically with symptoms:  first, do I recognize the triggers; then, how do I respond(or react, each verb is different); do I give myself the compassionate gift of 'time' to accept what is happening.  I'm hear to put the process down so I remember that this set-back was not gracefully accepted.  I resist, and want this to be over so I can get back to the better-and-better feeling life I was having.

"There's no rushing the river."  Life if it is a river will flow or trickle with seasons.  All around us the forest has grown from hibernation to shoulder-high Bracken and boisterous berry bushes filled with bell-shaped blossoms and airports of bees.  I want to feel better now, but it will need to be in increments, sequentially-accessed by going through re-entry.  Count the blessings, and the goodness and use it as mortar in the foundation re-laid so far:  two days without wheat makes a difference (I go through with-drawal like an alcoholic freshly sober); Round-up doesn't clear quickly (I know that) I am weak and my nervous system quivers from head to toe; avoidance is still a necessary coping and healing strategy.

We were at MK's celebration yesterday.  Her beautiful photography was receiving the praise and attention it deserved.  Masked and present outside the home-office where the party gathered I sipped a glass of raspberry seltzer and felt part of the celebration.  How long had it been since I'd help a real glass of anything at a party?  Long enough ago that I don't remember. Two of the guests stopped to ask about the mask.  Both of them aware of chemical sensitivities they shared of other experiences with someone they know who lives with the condition.  "Until you know someone, you just think ...'ah, come on!!" one of the guests said.  A big old diesel truck drove past, but not until it had stopped at the STOP sign while I stood on the porch outside the front door chatting with a friend.  It was just minutes too long, that truck, that chat in the same place. 

Managing set-backs is a sequential access experience.  We have often described our life living in tiny spaces with multiple sensitivities using that description.  Seems it remains so still.

Are you easy with set-backs?

more GOOD NEWS ... never under-estimate the power of a letter

Earlier in the week, my friend Eileen joined her choir for a gathering of song for Memorial Day.  I heard about the event through my husband Pete.  Eileen and MK share their land with us, and during the year we have been here she has become an understanding advocate for those who live with Multiple Chemical Sensitivities.  The process of becoming aware of this condition-illness does not easily move to acceptance for those living with or observing the condition-illness.  Time and willingness are two factors that must couple, and even that combination will be affected by circumstance.  The third-part of the process of change:  action can be a long time coming.  We know from experience the journey through awareness, acceptance and action.  The years of healing from MCS has brought us to today, and this is the good news.

The following (edited to exclude a full-name) email was sent to the members in Eileen's choir just the other day. 

"I want to say something about Multiple Chemical Sensitivity (MCS). I knew little about it until Pete and Mokihana moved onto our land. (You all know Pete. He brought the risers to UU for us and took them back. Now he's repairing them so we can use them again with safety.) At first I was skeptical about MCS. It was difficult to make sense out of Mokihana's responses to the threat of chemical contact. It seemed inconsistent. 

Scents and fragrances are indicators of chemicals in the air. Individual responses can include itching, respiratory response, hives, feeling like you have the flu, fatigue, and a host of other problems that can last for days. The way I was able to make sense of Moki's responses to chemicals is that it is about being safe. To learn more about Multiple Chemical Sensitivities check out Mokihana's blog Fragrance Free in 23.  Mokihana was able to attend our Spring concert by standing at the back door of the church. She was so happy to be able to hear us.

 If you are willing, I invite you to consider creating our choir as a safe space for folks with chemical sensitivities. A number of folks in the choir besides R react to fragrances. Drier sheets, perfume, hair products even essential oils can trigger reactions in those with chemical sensitivites. Personally, I'm not sure that the fragrance that set off R's reaction was on one of us but in the practice room. I caught the fragrance and started coughing when we walked into the room and I was one of the first ones in there and I am fragrance free. One of the things that makes a huge difference to MCS folks is having a community that will stand with them, trust that the illness is real, and give up as many fragrances as possible. If you are not able to give them up. Then it helps if they are told ahead of time when you are wearing a fragrance, or if you detect a fragrance in a room so it doesn't take them by surprise. MCS is unique to each individual and each day is different from every other. Stress and fatigue, the intensity of the fragrance, the environment, the occasion all have an effect upon how the reaction will unfold. Thanks for allowing me to share my experience learning to trust and appreciate my new friend Mokihana and being open to understanding how I can support her and other folks with MCS."

Eileen

Mahalo Eileen for your trust, and your letter(email)
Love,
Mokihana

Multiple Voices: a choir

"I have seven active blogs,"  I told her. 
"Why?"  She asked.
I thought about my answer for a couple seconds, and said, "I've been a writer most of my adult life, and I love to write.  There's so much to write, slightly different voices, same life."  There wasn't much discourse from that point between us, though the question was asked by others in different ways.  Madeline L'Engle wrote, 'But I cannot write just when I feel like it, or I will have nothing to write with.  Like the violin, I must be tuned and practiced on constantly."

A couple people asked what happened to our 'old' blog, and I said the story had been told for three years, and it was time to stop telling that story.
"Do you think others have followed in your footsteps?" One friend asked.
"I'm not sure about that, though at least one couple is building a tiny home, and is in touch with us."
The friend said she had been to our our blog a lot.  I said she would be welcomed to see the archived posts; we could invite her to read them if she asked. 

Pete and I were gathered with a group of people who live with different manifestations of an illness diagnosed as Multiple Chemical Sensitivities.  We met these folks three years ago when my physical symptoms were the most difficult to understand, and support for this unravelling came from this group.  We garnered ideas, listened to the stories each shared and enjoyed the company of fragrance-free companions.  We so appreciate the experiences we heard back then.  We have often been, and continue to live a distance away from this Seattle-based group.  Our trek from South Whidbey is made with consciousness and preparedness.  The pollens are in sky-high infusion in mid-May, so my decision to travel is done with Plan Be, once again. 

1. BElieve I can do it.  My desire for the company of these folks is strong.  We  haven't seen these friends for nine months.
2. BE positive.  Knowing what I see as a good-thing and a step toward good-feeling (joyful company, catching up, sharing), I focus on the good and step away from resistence and feelings that distract.
3. BE prepared.  We travel with an oxygen tank, face mask, homeopathic remedies, glass jug of filtered water, and know to keep talking to each other as we pace our way from the woods to the city.  We plan the two hours journey into the city with ease and fun built-in:  ice cream cone for me, a good and healthy lunch even before the late afternoon potluck.

The weather was mild and allowed a pleasant few hours with our friends.  The stories and the voices were multiple, but focused mainly around the illness.  A new supplement for one woman aides her to sleep; another friend rests peacefully on a blanket laid on the grass beside our picnic table enjoying the sleep she hasn't been able to get as she wades through a multiple-month challenge of in-her-home invasion; bone-building physical stretches shared just before our 'good-byes' attracts the interest of three of us; a successful search for a new home is a victory shared. 

In one afternoon gathering the voices of experiences are multiple, and each voice and story fueled by a personal decision based on wanting to 'feel good.'  The varied choices and the progress toward good as diverse as is the dozen or so folk who came to the park that spring afternoon.  As Pete and I headed home, we recounted our adventure.  Though it was rush-hour our path along the alternative highway north was easier, fewer banks of the pollen that is most difficult for me made the journey a most down-stream experience.  We had napped earlier, sunning ourselves in the car as we waited for our friends to arrive.  So we had refreshed enough ... pacing ourselves to allow the good into our flow.  We could not share the driving because I needed to use the oxygen from time-to-time, I need to remember to thank Pete and appreciate him more often.

When we got home, we both were glad we adventured, but even more glad to be home.  What a nice feeling to know 'glad to be home.'  Back in the Quonset I stowed away the food and supplies we'd purchased from the city.  JOTS was still out and away in the woods.  Pete was off tending to the ducks and chickens.  When I peeked out the door, I saw him sitting at the nearly built wooden table now so comfortably a part of the orchard.  He and Eileen were chatting.  I turned on the c.d. player, checked to see that the sounds I wanted to hear were there, shut the lid on the player, pressed the PLAY arrow button and listened to the other part of my PLAN BE.  I am newly training myself to turn down-stream for my good news and good feelings.

"Be easy about this. Be playful about it. Don't work so hard at it. Let your dominant intent to be to feel good, and if you don't feel good, then let your dominant intent be to feel relief. Feel your way through it. If you think your way through it, you can get off on all kinds of tangents. If you feel your way through it, you can come quickly to your Core Energy, and when you do that only good can then flow to you."

--- Abraham
Excerpted from the workshop in Rye, NY on Sunday, October 12th, 1997

My choosing gets better with practice.  I listened to my c.d. and turned to the sink, and the bottles that needed to be refilled with filtered water.  I knew this choice to drive into Seattle was done on an 'Ole Moon when rest was the best choice.  I took a risk, and now I feel the price for extending beyond my reserves.  Before the tape was finished Pete came back, we traded places in front of the laptop. 

"Would you keep an eye on the bottle?  I need to go into the vardo for a lie-down." 
"Sure," Pete said.
"I can turn that tape off," I said before leaving the Quonset.
"No, that's okay, I'll listen."

I walked across the gravel path to the vardo steps, opened up the vardo saying a silent hello of appreciation, changed into my robe, straightened up the covers a bit and climbed in.  Rested from one more adventure in this life,I noted the different choices made by others on their path. I recognized the contrasting examples as research for my bettering-life.Those 'Ole Moons of the Hawaiian Moon Calendar are there for good reason, and when I push my will again the wobble of those resting moons, there are consequences.  My Plan BE, reminds me that I choose to tell a different story and keep deciding consciously.  It takes practice.  My new story is newly sprouted, cultivating a soul takes care.  I'll remember that, and it's my own dear soul over which I can care...mine alone.  Does it take 7 blogs to tell my story?  A choir is multiple voices, I like the sound of that. Here's a video of virtual voices ... a 6 minute 'different musical story'... ready?